


Rapt Attention

by OrangeZest100



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-09
Updated: 2012-09-09
Packaged: 2017-11-13 21:51:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/508087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeZest100/pseuds/OrangeZest100
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Sam is separate from Dean in Season 5; Lucifer pays a visit.<br/>Mostly a bit of make-out groping but mostly fluff overall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rapt Attention

**Author's Note:**

> I somehow managed to write this entire thing while basically asleep.

            Sometimes the world is a hateful place.  He can feel the fact that Lucifer feels it to, except that feeling is all the time and Sam doesn’t know how the angel can stand it, being angry at the world.  Maybe he’s only so in tune with Lucifer because he’s the “one true vessel” but it doesn’t really matter who your ally is as long as you have an ally when you’re surrounded by a giant nest of vampires.  It was supposed to be routine; Sam knew he didn’t have backup in the form of Dean but it was supposed to be a small nest, maybe 2 or 3, not 20 and when he got here Sam sent out a silent call for help, trying to stall for some kind of time.  Help didn’t seem to come, and Sam stood tall, accepted his inevitable death when suddenly the archangel is standing back to back with him, voice ringing out:  “Oh boys, don’t you know not to hurt the bosses intended vessel.”  Sam stiffens, of course he stiffens, but this is not a time for fighting because Sam knows down in his gut that Lucifer is his only chance of getting out of here alive.

            “You’re not our boss.”

            “No, I’m not,” and Lucifer is leaning into Sam like he’s a fucking _wall_ and Sam is almost offended, “but I am an archangel, and I will kill you.”  Sam can almost feel the tingle on his skin when Lucifer smiles darkly.  “Letting us leave would be advised, although you could also run.”  Sam notices one of the smaller vamps in the back fidget on his toes and he stares directly at him, readying his machete, and the monster is gone before he can even finish getting a good grip.  Most of them quickly follow after and Sam dispatches the rest with quick efficiency.  He breathes for a moment, ignores the eyes focused on the back of his head, mentally plots the course the vamps would have taken and starts in that direction.  A tight grip on his arm swings him around.  “Where do you think you’re going?”

            “To finish killing vampires,” snarls Sam.  Why can’t Lucifer just _go_?

            “Oh no, you’re not, not this time.”

            “I can’t just leave a job!”  Sam’s surprised at how true it is, at how nearly 5 years ago he wouldn’t even be _on_ a job, let alone refusing to leave one.  He can’t let them free, just can’t, and if Lucifer claims to know him as well as he says he does, the archangel knows that.

            “I know,” and there’s something sad, strange, alien in his eyes.  “You’re just not going to be the one to go after them.”  Sam then finds himself back in his motel, car in the parking spot, everything he had taken to the nest in the room with him.  He pouts.  He doesn’t get it, doesn’t get how Lucifer just does this, shows up and saves him, does Sam’s _job_ when he could be trying to force Sam to say yes.  Though, of course it could all be part of some elaborate plan if Lucifer didn’t keep “just checking in” to make sure Sam was alive and well, both mentally and physically.  Sam still doesn’t get it, why _he’s_ the stupid vessel for Lucifer especially when there are far worse people out there, but worst of all he doesn’t understand the singular, rapt attention that Lucifer focuses on him.  Sam Winchester has never gotten that much personal attention and he hates how much he loves having Lucifer focus squarely on him like he’s the only thing that matters, like he’s the only important focus point in the universe.  Sam sighs, runs a hand through his hair and stares around at the motel walls.

            Sam wonders how pointless this all is, because Dean’s gone, the one anchor he has anymore but at least Dean has Cas now.  Sam is glad that his brother can at least have that, even if neither of the two quite realizes the relationship they have.  He waits, because Sam’s not stupid, he knows that Lucifer will come back to talk to him eventually.  When his wait reaches an hour and a half Sam gives up, heads to the shower as he grabs his things, hoping that the Devil will at least have the decency to not visit him in the shower.  Castiel had done that to Dean once.  Sam realizes as he runs the towel through his dripping hair that he’s forgotten clothes in his room, resigns himself to a slightly chilly walk to retrieve them.  Towel wrapped around his waist and hair still dripping periodical drops of water off the ends, Sam opens the door to find Lucifer sitting quietly at the edge of his bed.  “How long have you been sitting there then?”  Lucifer’s lips twitch, almost like he’s pleased to know Sam saw him coming.

            “Long enough to know that sometimes you sing show tunes in the shower, like West Side Story show tunes, like _I Feel Pretty_ , really Sam?”  Sam blushes pink automatically but scowls, ignores the archangel in favor of searching the room for his bag only to find it on the bed, of course it’s on the bed.  Sam silently curses his life.

            “What do you want Lucifer?”

            “Are you okay?”  Sam expected the question, but what takes him by surprise is the softness present on the edges of it.  Lucifer even looks ever so slightly uncomfortable with Sam’s undressed state.

            “I’m fine.”

            “I know you left Dean.”  Sam growls, it’s almost involuntary, because Lucifer _knows_ Dean is a sour subject.  (Neither of them admits how well they know each other’s buttons or quirks and it becomes one of the biggest taboos.)  Sam doesn’t miss the way that Lucifer flinches though, starts staring at the ground near his vessels feet instead of keeping unblinking eye contact.

            “That has nothing to do with you, nothing to do with this,” (let us skip the way it doesn’t come out as ‘the apocalypse’ and more as their ‘relationship’).  “It’s between Dean and I; no one else.”  Lucifer just keeps staring at the ground and Sam angrily stalks to the bed and rummages in his bag for clothes.  The towel slips a bit, as towels are want to do, and Lucifer stares out of the corner of his eye at the nearest hip bone, the curve of it, the bronze skin and the muscle that coat it.  Sam finds clothes and it’s almost surprising how comfortable he is with Lucifer seeing his boxers splayed out on the bed but Sam ignores that niggling thought in order to get the archangel out so he can get dressed.  He looks up to see Lucifer’s gaze follow his hipbone, resting on the edge of the towel before sliding up his torso to ravish his collarbone and the pulse point of his neck.  Sam shivers, surprised at the intense worshipfulness of the gaze but he isn’t really surprised.  It all boils down to being the true vessel right?  Of course Lucifer’s vessel would appeal to him physically.  Sam’s feeling almost spiteful tonight, daring, like he can push Lucifer until he breaks and he’s so very tired and strung out on coffee, and so to him his actions tend to make complete sense.

            Sam lets the towel drop, steadily ignores the widening of Lucifer’s eyes, and grabs his boxers from the bed.  Sam takes his time dressing, a reverse strip tease, pulls his boxers and pants on slowly, stretches out his torso unnecessarily as he pulls on shirts.  Lucifer can’t stop staring at him in a way that’s almost completely un-angel and un-Lucifer like but if Sam is good at nothing else he’s good at compartmentalizing so he ignores the archangel some more.  “Sam…”  Sam has to look up at that, at the slightly parted lips of the Devil and his shallow breathing, and it takes him a second but he notices the way that Lucifer’s pupils are blown wide.  Sam can’t ignore everything he’s buried anymore, the way he notices the archangel’s ass when he walks away, the dip of his collarbone into the hollow of his throat, how he actually seems touched by the being’s attention, and Sam’s getting slightly hard in his jeans himself.  So when the archangel launches himself at Sam, kisses him like a drowning man in the Arctic Ocean, anxious to share air and warmth, pulling as close as he can possibly get, Sam kisses him back.

            Sam’s eager quickly, kisses hard, teeth pulling on the Devil’s bottom lip, pressing forward until Lucifer is falling on the bed.  He’s pulling his flannel shirt off so only one shirt is left on his torso and as soon as his hands are free he’s slipping them up Lucifer’s shirt, spawning a shiver, kissing the archangel as if he’s a gift he will soon lose.  The Devil becomes compliant under his fingertips, back arching off the bed as Sam’s fingers skim across his abdomen.  With a great amount of concentration, Sam pulls his mouth from the archangel’s, mutters “Luke” over the bare skin of his neck.  Lucifer moans, loud and needy, driving the Winchester up a mental wall as he wines, works on getting clothes off as fast as possible.  Before he can think, Sam’s been flipped onto the bed, Lucifer sitting on his chest and hands holding his wrists to the mattress.  Sam’s body goes from running on lust to running on fear in milliseconds, cold sweat breaking out along his hair line, but Lucifer’s smile is soft.  “I’m not going to hurt you Samuel.”  The Devil lets him go, moves so that they’re spooning and he’s running his fingers up and down Sam’s forearm.  “Not now Sam, not like this.  You deserve to be worshipped, courted, dinner and flowers and just-a-little-to-much-wine make-outs on your doorstep.  You deserve to be taken on walks, to be kissed sweetly under umbrellas, parades thrown in your honor, and every gift I could possibly find, so not just yet Samuel, not just yet.”  Sam doesn’t realize until the morning that he falls asleep crying happy tears, feeling the safest and loved since he was just a child.


End file.
